Vengeful Spirit
by Kandyrezi
Summary: It was just when she thought everything would finally go the way she wanted.


**a/n; I was inspired by the "someone is a ghost" AU, also vague implications of the Ellen/Viola ship maybe?**

* * *

A girl in golden twin braids sat in front of a mirror attached on a desk, gazing at her reflection, green orbs on golden ones. She could never look in a mirror expecting it go along with her big _lie_. Sometimes the eyes would be different, at times it was the hair, and seeing the former witch entirely staring back at her with just as a malicious smile was not rare either.

She was slowly forgetting her old identity and forming a new, fresh life she was absolutely enthralled to get used to.

Her "father" had gone out hunting, she stayed in her room, writing an entry for her diary. Her old one was long lost, so a new one was needed. She decided to make some tea for herself whilst she waited, and "father" when he would arrive. She closed and put away her diary and made her way out of her room and to the kitchen, finding the kettle and prepared to heat up the water. But then she saw the window of their cottage was wide open, the wind howling so harshly and the curtains blew against it. Ellen sensed how cold it was, scurrying over to close it with a slam, and then it was quiet again.

(She wondered for a brief moment why would it be open in the first place and if it was her father who did.)

Reluctantly, she set two mugs on the table.

A series of footsteps hurriedly walked by, in another room, not towards her, rather just across and away from her. Perhaps she wasn't alone in this house at all. Ellen lets her hand slowly slip off the table, turning to try and find whatever there might've been.

Nothing to be seen at all, she was merely "deceived" by noise. Or perhaps not. This did not scare her, however. Then a sudden realization hits in the back of her head, so she makes her thoughts known, with not a loud, but still clear voice that was above a whisper.

"Viola... is... that you?"

She'd be damned if her vengeful spirit actually had the nerve to follow her here. Surely she must've just been imagining it. And no way could she do it. She was destined to be stuck in the castle. Unless...

Ellen tried following any signs of a presence, but once again, it was quiet. She decided to stroll back into her room (come back to the tea later), if she was not going to find the spirit of whoever it might've been.

A noise startled and interrupted her, momentarily stopping.

Something like... glass shattering. And it came from the way she on her way back to. Her room.

Hurrying back there, she couldn't find anything at first glance, until her eyes went on a trail of a dark red liquid in small puddles.

The glass of the mirror was broken, cracked into a thousand pieces. Something besides that was different, however, a photo of herself - her old self - was hanging on the base of the mirror, with a dagger stabbed directly in the spot of her heart. Her eyes have been scribbled on with black then crossed out with crimson.

Ellen immediately backed off in fear of something unexpected. This caused her not to notice another fresh smear, making her slip and fall. She winced slightly and she looked at her hand, seeing it was damply stained with it now. Turning her head a bit, another shocking sight bewildered her, as she crawled away from it, she stumbled back to her feet.

Across the floor, lay something resembling a message, consisting of a fairly cleanly written single word, using the same material as before.

 **MURDERER**

Hatred was an understandable emotion that she felt. Yet something overpowered that feeling, Ellen felt _something_ , something she swore she would never truly explore the meaning of enough to actually feel it.

 _Guilt._

She did not even know if this was all in her head, or actually felt the other girl's presence. The kind-hearted girl never showed any kind of aggression, this whole ordeal was very surprising, or perhaps not.

"I'm _sorry_ , Viola..." she finally admitted, uncertain if she even was capable of telling the truth anymore, "I had to do it, I would've died otherwise."

 _Sorry_ did not cut it...

"I did _love_ you, Viola... I hope you can forgive me, someday..." in distress, she sunk to her knees as she kept her gaze on all the blood.

This was not _love_...

The sound of something splattering was heard from behind her. She did not expect an answer, but she expected that kind of answer.

 **NEVER**

She knew she could never be a definition of a 'good person'. She still hoped, regardless.


End file.
